


Tomorrow We'll Be Okay

by TheGoliathBeetle



Category: Free!
Genre: Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Protective!Haru, Sad!Makoto, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:20:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoliathBeetle/pseuds/TheGoliathBeetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto relapses, and Haru makes him feel safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow We'll Be Okay

It’s one of those rare days when Haru is actually texting. He’s still not familiar with half the emojis and he finds the constant _ding_ of his phone irritating, but at any rate, it’s better than studying. Nagisa keeps sending him cute penguin pictures, and Rei is helping him with a math theorem (Haru isn’t actually paying attention to him right now), but Makoto is strangely silent.

It’s not that Makoto is an obsessive texter or anything, it’s just that he never passes up an opportunity to reply when Haru sends him the occasional, **what’s up?**

Haru tries again.

**I’m really bored so I’m texting people instead.**

Makoto reads the text. Haru knows this because of the green tick marks that appear almost as soon as the message is delivered. He expects Makoto to admonish him ( _“Haru, the exams are coming up! You should be studying!”_ ), but all he gets in response is a distracted, **Hahaha**. It makes Haru frown. It’s dismissive, as though Makoto hadn’t really registered the conversation.

**Are you busy?** Haru types back. He’s slightly worried, because Makoto gets stressed out during the exams, and he’s been more tense than ever lately. Makoto had spent three days at Haru’s, studying, because he couldn’t do it at home. His closed room door and the silence that came with it would suffocate him.

**Now’s not a good time. Sorry,** Makoto replies.

Alarm bells go off, because Makoto just doesn’t _say_ things like that to Haru.

**Are you okay?**

Makoto responds fifteen minutes later. And it’s with one word.

**No.**

* * *

For the last three days, Makoto had studied with Haruka, even stayed over there a few nights, because it distracted him. Haru’s presence calmed him down, and that was vital, because without him, Makoto knew he was this close to relapsing. He’d been clean for five months, and he didn’t want to break that streak.

Then today, he was home alone. He could have studied with Haru, but he got the feeling that Haru needed his space for a bit – this was Haru, after all. Or maybe Makoto just didn’t want to be around people. He can’t make up his mind about that. But the result was that he was alone, he was stressed, and before he really knew what he was doing, he’d taken out a new safety razor, cracked it open with the needle of his compass, and well…

After it was all over, Makoto could scarcely _believe_ it. He always showered after he cut, because it helped clot the blood, and more than that, it made him feel a little cleaner. So he stood there under the water and cried and cried tears of fear, disgust and loneliness, because _what had he done._

The unmistakable numbness flit in, taking away all the stress. For now, nothing mattered. Just the silence inside his head. Usually his thoughts screamed and screamed at him about all the things he wasn’t good enough at, all the things he needed to improve upon, all the disappointments he offered to all of people’s great expectations. _Loser, loser, loser –_ but now, there was nothing but silence. It was wonderful. He’d missed this.

It didn’t last long. Ten minutes later he was thinking about how this wasn’t the person he wanted to be. He’d fought off self-harm once, but what good had that done? He’d relapsed, he could have stopped himself but he didn’t. _Loser. Loser. Loser._

_I feel so alone._

Makoto wanted so badly to be held as he sobbed brokenly into his duvet. He was wearing full sleeves now. Of course he was. And he would have to for the next few weeks. What if his parents noticed? There’d been enough drama in this house about his problems, and he didn’t want to worry his parents further. He didn’t want to tell them.

But right now. He just wanted. He just wanted to feel safe.

He didn’t feel safe alone with himself.

Then Haru had texted, and Makoto hadn’t even read his messages properly.

**Are you okay?** Haru had asked him.

Makoto had stared at the message for a long time before wiping his eyes on his sleeve, letting out a shuddering breath, and typing, **No.**

* * *

Makoto wasn’t surprised when the doorbell rang. He just couldn’t get himself to go and face Haru. It was too much to have to deal with. He didn’t have the energy. So he just waited in silence for a few more minutes, before Haru got the idea and unlocked the front door with the spare key kept under the flowerpot. Makoto shut his eyes and turned his back to the wall. If only he could disappear into the plaster and not exist.

He heard his bedroom door open and Haruka’s light footsteps padded into the room.

“Makoto?” he asked softly, sitting on the bed next to him. His fingers carded Makoto’s hair. Makoto knew what he wanted to ask, of course. _Are you sick? Are you hurt? Please tell me what’s wrong._

“I relapsed,” Makoto whispered out before curling into himself tighter. God, he just wanted to be held. To be cradled and to be told that this was okay, that he wasn’t a failure, even though he knew he was.

Haru’s hand in his hair tensed. “Oh, Makoto.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked again and before he knew it, the tears ran down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He felt Haru’s body come closer to his, and Haru’s soft lips pressed lightly into his cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay. Shh, Makoto, don’t cry.”

He couldn’t help it anymore. Makoto turned, sat up and buried his head into Haru’s chest, sobbing and sobbing, and letting Haru hold him and tell him that he was okay, he was not a failure, he was loved.

* * *

“I just…I just couldn’t _take_ it anymore,” Makoto confessed after he’d finally calmed down. He was so huge and Haru so tiny, but he still felt safe with his head in Haru’s lap, his long porcelain fingers stroking Makoto’s hair. “I’m so _scared_ , Haru. I can’t afford to mess these exams up, and it just feels like I’m not prepared, that I’m never going to be, and everyone expects so much of me, and I just _can’t_. I can’t do it. I _can’t_ , Haru, I can’t.”

He feels more tears coming on, but Haru bends down and kisses his nose. He doesn’t offer any words of consolation. They would be empty, anyway. What would he say that Makoto hasn’t heard a hundred other times before? _You’re smart, you’re hardworking, you can do it, it’s okay, stop pressurizing yourself_. What good would those words do?

Instead, Haru says, “Where did you cut?”

“My arms and my hip,” Makoto replies softly, closing his eyes in shame. “But it’s not bad. I mean, none of them are deep and they didn’t bleed much.”

“Okay.” Haru pauses. “Did you take care of them? Bandage them and stuff?”

“Yeah. Always.”

“Good.” He twirls a lock of Makoto’s hair around his little finger, and asks, “Do you think you could stomach some food?”

Makoto makes a face. He can never eat after an episode like this.

“Maybe drink something,” Haru insists.

Makoto sighs. “Okay.”

They trail down to the kitchen, Makoto silent, hesitant, unsure. Haru is in the lead, but he stays protectively close to Makoto. As Makoto sits at the table, he watches Haru open the fridge and the cabinets. For once, he isn’t making mackerel-anything. Makoto averts his gaze and plays with the hem of the tablecloth. “I threw the blade away afterwards. So. Don’t worry. I’m fine, really.”

He feels a little guilty, actually. He always does when things like this happen. Nobody wants to have to deal with their pathetic self-harming insecure vulnerable friend. Makoto doesn’t want to be a burden to people.

“You usually call me when you feel low,” Haruka says instead.

“Yes, but today, I just – I don’t – _know_ –”

“Shush, Makoto. It’s all right.”

Makoto’s eyes fill again. “It’s not. I’m not.” He buries his head in his hands and wishes his evening would disappear. “I’m sorry, Haru, I don’t want to burden you, but sometimes, I just…I feel like I’m a dead weight. I don’t deserve to have you. I feel so guilty,” he babbles on, his tears getting worse and worse as he does.

Haruka pulls him into a hug and holds him. “Makoto. I don’t blame you for feeling guilty, because I know you can’t help that and it’s not a rational thing. But you should know that I never, ever mind looking after you. You’re not a burden to me. So you can feel guilty but you should know that I don’t mind one bit. Don’t ever think you can’t talk to me about something. Even though I might not always know how to respond, I’ll always try.”

It’s the most Haru has spoken aloud all week, and it fills Makoto with warmth. “What did I do to deserve you?” he mumbles.

Haruka smiles softly, but doesn’t reply, before going back to the kitchen counter and bringing the two freshly made glasses of chocolate milkshake.

The rest of the evening is quiet, uneventful, but Makoto feels a little bit more human as the hours pass. As he falls asleep with Haru in his arms that night, he knows he’s on the mend. This is only a relapse. They’ll be okay, together.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was cathartic. I was like Makoto yesterday. My friends were like Haru. Love those guys. <3 
> 
> This is unedited. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
